


A Glance Under Somebody Else's Skin

by VampireNaomi



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:02:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampireNaomi/pseuds/VampireNaomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prussia comforts Romano when he's feeling unimportant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Glance Under Somebody Else's Skin

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this on the Hetalia kink meme.

Romano gritted his teeth as he listened to Veneziano's happy chatter from the front of the room. It was ridiculous that he was using that tone when talking about their economy and its problems, but nobody else seemed to mind. Even if everyone knew that Veneziano was an idiot, at least his overly positive tone and bright smile gave the others some reassurance that everything was going to be fine and they wouldn't end up bankrupt.

Fuck, he hated these meetings, he thought as he glanced at his watch. It was a complete waste of time to come to them. It was always the same people talking shit, and they never accomplished anything, just ended up fighting. If France and England were that eager to get their hands on each other, they should have done so in private instead of using these meetings as an excuse to wrestle on the floor and make the lives of the rest of them miserable.

This meeting was especially terrible because he was expected to speak. Veneziano had cried and begged until he had agreed to talk during the second half of their presentation. The fool had even said that Germany would be so proud of him if he did it, which in Romano's opinion was the perfect reason to opt out. However, then he had realised that the steroid potato was probably expecting him to skip the meeting altogether, so he had decided that he wouldn't, just to show him that South Italy could get shit done.

And that was why he was here, tapping his fingers against the table in impatience as he waited for Veneziano to finish with his half. He had worked his ass off to make the numbers in the second half match and had even neglected his precious tomato fields in favour of paperwork to make everything perfect. This had better be worth it.

“Fucking finally,” he muttered under his breath when Veneziano was done with his last point. He started to rise from his seat to take over, but that was when England raised his hand.

“How exactly are you planning to stop your recession from getting worse? You didn't show us that many concrete measures,” he said.

“Oh, that,” Veneziano said. “That's actually coming up in the next part. For example, we're going to invest a lot in infrastructure.”

Germany nodded in approval. “That sounds reasonable. Alright, keep going.”

“But the second part is –”

“Italy, we're already seven and a half minutes behind schedule!”

“Eek, okay! Don't get mad at me, Germany!”

Romano sank back to his seat as Veneziano hastily resumed talking. In the very beginning, he had said that Romano would handle the second half. Fuck, both of their names had been on the first slide! But either these losers hadn't noticed, they had forgotten or they just didn't care.

And Germany had called Veneziano Italy again, as if he was the whole country.

At first Romano just sat where he was, silently fuming to himself and clenching his fists until they hurt. This was no fucking surprise. It had always been like this. Veneziano this, Veneziano that. Everybody always acted like he was the only one, or at least he only one who mattered.

He blinked rapidly as he noticed his eyes starting to burn. Hell, no. He wasn't going to start bawling in the middle of a meeting, especially because of something like this. This was nothing. He was used to this. There was going to be a break in an hour and a half, and then he could go have lunch with Spain and forget all about this morning. Just the way he always did when everyone ignored him in favour of his brother.

But this time they were doing more than that. Everybody was looking at Veneziano like he was some messiah who could solve all of their problems. Even that fucking potato looked suitably impressed. They were Romano's calculations that Veneziano was showing everyone! It wasn't he who deserved all that admiration and acceptance!

Blinking wasn't enough anymore. He had to wipe at his eyes with his palm and try to make it look like he was just brushing some hair behind his ear. There was a painful, constricting feeling in his throat that made it difficult to swallow and keep breathing regularly.

Fuck, he thought. He couldn't maintain a straight face for much longer. He was going to start crying, and then everyone would think he was stupid. How could he tell them that he was letting something like this get under his skin? It was no problem if he didn't get to talk in a meeting. In fact, he had told Veneziano that nothing would make him happier.

“Hey, are you okay?” Spain asked by his side. His voice was loud enough to draw everyone's attention, and suddenly Veneziano had grown quiet and everyone was staring at him.

Romano tried to hide behind his papers.“I... I have a stomach ache, you bastards.”

“That's too bad,” Spain said and patted his hand in sympathy. “I hope you can still eat something at lunch. I'll buy you something really good.”

And that was it. That was fucking it. Veneziano started talking again, and everyone turned to look back at him. They didn't give a damn that there were tears streaming down his face and that every breath he took sounded like he was choking. Couldn't anyone see that he was lying, that there was something wrong with him? Didn't anyone care?

He couldn't stay here.

Romano jumped to his feet so fast that his chair made a horrible sound as it was pushed back and rushed for the exit. Though he wanted nothing more than to get away and be alone, there was a faint hope in the back of his mind that someone would come after him and finally notice what was wrong with him.

But nobody did. The last thing he heard before the door slammed shut behind him was Spain remarking to France that he was probably going to the bathroom.

Now that there was nobody to see or hear him, he no longer had any need to hold back. He let out a strangled sob and began to march down the hall towards the break room. Once there, he collapsed on the closest couch and buried his face into his arms.

He was no longer crying just because everyone was once again focusing on Veneziano and ignoring him. No, he was also crying _because_ he was crying – because he was so weak and pathetic that he kept letting something like this affect him even though he had had centuries to get used to it. Why couldn't he just get over it?

It took a while before he noticed it from under the sound of his sobbing and sniffling, but there was strange, beeping music playing in the room. Confused, he turned to look and nearly had a heart attack.

He wasn't alone after all. Prussia was lying sprawled on one of the other couches, his legs dangling over the edge, and holding some kind of game console in his hands. That was where the music was coming from, but right now Prussia wasn't paying any attention to the game. He was staring right at him.

Oh, hell, this was the last thing he needed. If there was one nation he didn't want to deal with right now, it was Prussia. The bastard would just make fun of him and rub salt into his wounds. He was practically a one-man fanclub of Veneziano.

“Hey, what's wrong with you?” Prussia asked.

“Nothing!”

“Doesn't look like it, but whatever.”

And with a shrug, Prussia turned his attention back to his game.

Only moments ago, Romano had wished that Prussia weren't there. Now he would have given anything if his reaction had been different because he wanted _someone_ to finally notice him, but he cared just as little as the others. Romano tried to muffle his sobs by burying his face into the couch and wished that his tears would just fucking stop already, but it was like something had broken inside him. 

He should probably get out and find some lonely corner for himself, but he couldn't be bothered. He had already made a fool of himself in front of everyone. There was no point in – 

He felt the couch suddenly shift, and when he looked up, he saw that Prussia had taken a seat by his side.

“You're bawling so loud that I can't play my game. It's ruining my perfect concentration,” he said.

“Then go play somewhere else, bastard!”

“But I was here first!”

Oh, to hell with this guy!

“Fine,” Romano growled and stood up, wiping his eyes. “Then I'll go!”

He was about to turn around and leave, but he felt a hand grab the jacket of his suit and pull him back on the couch. He wanted to snap at Prussia to get his fucking hands off him that instant, but then he caught the look on his face. He wasn't grinning in his usual, arrogant way. If anything, it looked like he was actually using his brain and trying to think for once.

“So, what happened?” Prussia asked.

“I said it's nothing!”

Prussia snorted and rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Sure, you're a total crybaby, but even you don't usually howl like this. Did something come up in the meeting or what?”

Romano swallowed and turned his eyes to his hands. He didn't want to talk to Prussia. He hated him almost as much as he hated Germany, and every second he had to spend in his presence made him feel like he was doing something disgusting, like swimming in garbage that mostly consisted of rotting potato peels.

But Prussia was also the only one who wasn't buying his half-hearted lies. He could see that something was bothering him.

Should he tell him? Would he just laugh at him when he heard what it was? Probably yes, or maybe he'd say that it was no surprise that everyone forgot about him when Veneziano was in the room because he was so much cuter, more talented, more agreeable and all around better than him. Now that he had allowed himself the tiny crumb of hope that someone might understand him, he didn't think he could deal with that.

Even if he had wanted to say something, it would have been impossible at that moment. His tears started again, and he turned away so that Prussia wouldn't have to witness what a pathetic loser he was. He leaned against the backrest and cursed himself for being that way.

“I take that as a yes,” Prussia said. He was silent for a few moments and scooted closer on the couch. “Has anyone ever told you that nobody in the world is better at cheering up others than me?”

Romano couldn't even be bothered to reply.

“And besides, nobody should be crying when I'm the room, unless it's tears of joy at being allowed to look at me!”

“Go to hell!”

“Hey, it's a little hard to help you if you won't even tell me what's wrong!”

Romano straightened his back and turned to glare at Prussia. His image was a little distorted because he couldn't see clearly from his tears, but as far as he was concerned, that was only an improvement on the bastard's looks.

“Why the hell won't you just leave me alone? Do you get off on bugging others or what? But you want to know what's wrong? Fine, I'll fucking tell you! I'm this fed up with everyone licking Veneziano's ass and acting like the whole country is his. Even now they're listening to him talk about my work, and nobody cares that I'm the one who put that shit together! I bet it wouldn't even matter to anyone if I stopped being a nation and just disappeared!”

He drew in a shuddering breath after his outburst, hearing his own heartbeat thunder in his ears and certain that any moment now, Prussia's mocking laughter would wash over him.

It never happened.

“Man, you look terrible when your eyes are all puffy and with your nose running. Come on, frown a little at me like you always do.”

“W-what?” What the hell was the idiot talking about? Why wasn't he already telling him how stupid he was and texting about it to all his friends?

“What, no frown? Am I not trying hard enough here? Okay, let's see. Potatoes are the best and everyone who doesn't like them is a sissy, especially if they think pasta better!”

“Shut up, you –”

“Rome has nothing on Berlin when it comes to architecture!”

Romano was so startled by Prussia's strange babbling that for a moment, he forgot all about crying and just stared at him, trying to figure out what he was doing. No matter how he looked at it, he couldn't understand what he was trying to accomplish.

“And you,” Prussia continued, pausing for effect as if he was about to deliver the killing blow in a battle, “are super cute now that you've stopped crying and are looking at me with those wide eyes, like you've only now realised how fantastic I am. Sure took long enough!”

“I told you to shut up! God, what the fuck is this shit you're saying? It's all lies!”

“At least you stopped bawling,” Prussia said, and his grin returned to his face, making him look a little more like the bastard Romano hated. In a way, that was almost comforting. “Anyway, you shouldn't let the others get to you. Since when have they been able to tell which nations are awesome and which not? I think you're pretty cool, and the way I see it, if you were useless, you would have already gone out with a poof.”

“What... what the hell are you saying?”

“I'm saying that there's got to be a reason you're still half of the country and that you shouldn't worry about what some idiots think. You've got me saying you're awesome, and that should be enough.”

Romano wiped at his eyes and sniffled, wishing that he had a handkerchief for blowing his nose. His head felt stuffy from all the crying, but at the same time it was as if some invisible weight had been lifted off his shoulders. When was the last time anyone had said this to him and told him that he mattered?

“Doesn't change that it sucks when they treat me like I'm not important,” he muttered.

“Yeah, I know.”

Silence fell between them. Romano finished drying his face and tried to decide what he should say next. He suddenly had no idea what to do.

“Wow, it sure got awkward really fast. Do you want a hug?” Prussia asked.

“What? No!”

“Too late!”

The next thing Romano knew, Prussia had thrown his arms around him and pulled him so tightly against him that he was momentarily out of breath. His first reaction was to stiffen, certain that something horrible was going to happen, but after a while he relaxed at the warmth of another body against his and the weight of Prussia's chin on his shoulder.

“Y-you stupid bastard,” he mumbled and tried to put the pieces of his dignity back together. He should have fought back and punched the idiot, but he was tired, and this was too comfortable. If he wasn't careful, it might become tempting to stay like this.

Prussia laughed. “I told you I'm the best at this. Next time, I'll do even better and make you smile.”

Romano didn't bother to point out that there'd never be another time. Instead, he forced himself to wriggle out of the hug and put some space between them on the couch.

“Why are you even here?” he asked, realising only now how strange it was that he would run into Prussia in the break room like this. 

Prussia shrugged, and his eyes momentarily darted to the wall. “Well, there's a meeting going on. No real point for an ex-nation to be there. Actually, they kind of told me not to bother them, haha. Shows what they know, huh? They have no idea what they're missing.”

Romano stopped his fidgeting on the couch. Prussia's situation was even worse than his; he didn't have even half a country to his name. He had been a kingdom once, and now he was reduced to playing video games in the break room and watching from the sidelines how the others ruled the world.

He had never spared a thought to that. He had only seen him as Germany's annoying brother. Was that any different from how the others only thought of Veneziano when they were discussing Italy? Here he was, crying his eyes out because of that while Prussia was trying to make him feel better. It should have been the other way around.

“You said it yourself. They suck, and their opinions don't matter,” he said.

“Yeah!” Prussia agreed readily.

Romano wondered if Prussia ever had moments of weakness like this and if he ever showed them to anyone. Before this day, he could have never imagined Prussia crying, but now that he knew that he understood the frustration and hurt he sometimes felt, he wasn't so sure anymore. He realised he kind of wanted to know, but he didn't have the guts to ask.

He glanced at his watch. It was still about an hour until there would be a break. He should get back to the others and make sure Veneziano hadn't totally fucked up his half of the presentation, but right now he just didn't feel like it. If something had gone wrong, his brother could deal with the mess he had created.

“I'm going to get early lunch,” he announced and got on his feet. He was half-way to the door when he realised that Prussia was still sitting on the couch. He placed his hands on his hips in irritation. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“Wait, I'm invited?”

“Yeah, but you're buying.”

“That's not fair! I made you feel better! You owe me this lunch!”

“Hah, as if,” Romano said with a roll of his eyes. They were in France. Like hell he'd buy Prussia some of the pervert's overrated food as payback. No, next time the two bastards came to visit Veneziano, Romano would tag along and cook something for him.

_Melanzane alla parmigiana_ , he decided as they stepped out of the conference building. Prussia had no idea what he was in for. Potatoes would never again be good enough for him.


End file.
